Cold December

In cold December the wind blew warm.
In January did she no harm.
In February, her icy blast
chilled the earth to hold it fast.
In March she spoke, from within the storm,
to April, for whom this air be cast
and reply there came in silence felt.
None did speak, for nought was spelt
in runes upon the sodden grey earth,
for April’s showers in kindly mirth
did them efface beneath heaven’s vault
no trace to leave of any worth.

How then to say what must be said?
Be glad, rejoice in hope be led –
Another dawn, another day –
In an anniversarial way.

Coffee?

Spring has sprung with pleasant flair
The aroma of fresh grass fills the air
The daffodils follow the blooming bluebells
The butterflies sound out their silent knells.

But in the city, canephoras beckon
‘tis time to walk, but no companion
For whom Spanish fields will lend their fruit
Until time returns to reunite.

UnFree

A curious miscarriage

Not free to go

It was Monday morning, the weekend had been longer and more tedious than usual, and Norbert was preparing to leave for the office, when there was a knock at the door. Norbert was surprised to find Jeremy the local bobby outside.

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